


To claim ones own

by Nalyra



Series: Of Lambs and Lions [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Will, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bonding, Canon Compliant, Claiming Bites, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Bond, Murder Husbands, Omega Hannibal, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Season/Series 03A AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 18:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9250019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: It's Wills becoming, accepting the implications of what he is and what he wants finally._________This is for 'vinylmurdersuit', who won my giveaway, asking for a Alpha!Will and Omega!Hannibal fic.And.... apparently it is something I never knew I wanted :))) because I spent my weekend giddily 'slaving' away on it right away, my mind in overdrive.I'm creating a new series with this one, because my mind insisted on attaching it to another gift story, 'It's midnight, somewhere', fitting together so beautifully somehow and this series will continue to explore this dynamic. Because there are sooooo many questions open in regards to their history... *happy and slightly unnerved sigh*. :PHope you like it!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vinylmurdersuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinylmurdersuit/gifts).



„This is all I ever wanted for you, Will… for both of us.“

-He- is so near. Will swallows and then falls into the brilliance of it, his body hurting, bleeding and battered, high on endorphins and -him-, so near, after all these years. Will smiles, blood dripping from his lips, sees how Hannibals gaze drops to his lips and Will feels the weight of it, traveling right through him, making everything so easy suddenly. 

„It’s beautiful.“

It’s the truth and it is pure relief, shuddering through him, years of denial falling off of him, dripping blood red to the ground between them, the game yielding to his move. He inhales deeply, feels how his body reacts despite the blood loss, despite the wounds, despite of what he came here to do. What he should still be doing, at least according to Jack. Will closes his eyes, his head coming onto Hannibals shoulder slowly, so near to where he wishes to be, turning his head to look at their prey one more time, drawing the sirens call in open mouthed, each breath shattering his defenses brick by brick, each inhale making it more and more easy. 

He gasps when he smells how Hannibals body reacts to his proximity, a jolt of lust taking his thoughts for a moment, followed by the stray thought that Alana must have used the daily suppressants dose as a means to control, there and gone when Hannibal pulls at his shirt, his other hand gripping Wills waist. He straightens up a bit with a groan, his forehead gliding over the collarbone and then the crook of Hannibals neck, pushing his nose there for a moment, his right arm traveling up Hannibals left, feels how Hannibal undulates against him, his head pressing down against Wills forehead for a moment and then pulls up again, sighing against the black sky above them.  
Will smiles and then presses his lips up and -there-, waiting for a moment, his right arm pulling in, weak as it is now, holding. He opens his mouth, fully accepting, his soul free suddenly, bloody antlers breaching his skin, binding them both together. 

He shifts his weight, smiling softly against Hannibals throat and then it is enough and the world tilts, and Will closes his eyes, his mouth opening wide, his teeth biting down harshly, Hannibals blood mixing with his own in his mouth, his moan jolting through them both. He swallows, once, groaning, the sound taken by the wind and then the impact throws them apart, salt water diluting the taste in his mouth, stinging his eyes, burning in his wounds. He trashes underwater, trying to see, the roiling waves a punishing force, his limbs agonizing pain, sluggish from the impact.  
A hand brushes his ankle and then clamps down on it an Will twist around torturously, reaching, calling with his mind as well, feels a slight thrum in answer, weak but there.

He breaks the water and gasps for air before pulling his legs up with a low scream, teeth clenched, the weight attached to it forcing him underwater again with the motion. His hands brush against Hannibals sweater, gripping harshly, yelling at Hannibal to kick up with his mind, furious and terrified, managing to keep from being smashed into the rocks at the last second, bracing with his back. He yells underwater when he feels the skin on his back tear, the grip on his ankle loosening and the adrenaline jolt following the realization what this means gives him the strength to push up from the rock, breaking the surface with Hannibal finally, finally, heaving Hannibal up, silent in his arms.

Will coughs, snarling when Hannibal remains passive in his arms, face pale. He shakes him, trying to keep up, the spray of water from where the waves hit the rocks taking his sight again and again. He hurls himself forward, taking Hannibal into a carrying grip, his world narrowing down to the first stroke toward the beach, and then the next and the next, time inconsequential suddenly, his mind in a space out. The first time his hand hits the gravely rocks a sob breaks free, followed by a grunted shout, heaving them both out of the water slowly, torturously crawling forward.

He pushes Hannibal up the beach until he is not in danger of being pulled back anymore and then crawls up, shaking Hannibals shoulders. He snarls when there is no reaction, the pulse there but shallow, breathing so low he cannot feel it. A terrified jolt runs through him, panted ‚no, no no’s escaping him, slurred where the wound in his cheek and tongue increasingly refuse to work properly, the prospect of loosing Hannibal now more than he can stand to think about. Especially now.

He pushes Hannibals head back roughly, opening his mouth and then pushes his own mouth down on it, forcing the air in, again and again, alternating with presses on his ribs until Hannibal rears to life suddenly, heaving and spitting salt water, coughing it out in heavy heaves, white hot red pain echoing back to Will. He closes his eyes, his own exhaustion making itself known, forcing them back open when he feels the world spin, knowing he cannot fall unconscious now.

There is a cold touch on his hand and Will realizes that Hannibal reaches for him with numb fingers, shivering and pale. He raises his eyes to Hannibal, bloodshot blue on bloodshot red, unflinching. Hannibal gasps and then raises his right hand to the bite mark with shaking fingers, his pupils dilating when he feels the bloody indents, his voice breathless and croaking, awed.

„And so the lamb has become the lion, taking his share.“

Will huffs a laugh, pinkish water dropping from his mouth, his voice a low rumble, words slurred, amusement coloring his tone.

„I will eat -you- alive, this time.“

Hannibal laughs and then turns to his side painfully when the laugh segues into a harsh coughing fit, and Will leans forward, grinning as much as he can with his face swelling up already, his left hand cupping Hannibals jaw for a moment. He swallows and then pushes himself up, swaying slightly, the world spinning for a moment before it settles, reality coming back into focus.

Will squints and then sighs with relief when he recognizes his surroundings, breathing a laugh and then bending down, offering his hand to Hannibal.

„Come, almost there.“

Will pulls Hannibal up, ignoring the gasp of pain, ignoring his own flaring of pain at every motion, dragging them both towards the far end of the beach slowly, step by step, the shadow of the ‚Nola‘, renamed to ‚Prometheus’ but no less beautiful, swaying softly like a beacon, begging them to come near, promising everything.


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal is barely conscious when they reach the little ship, managing to push himself up the two steps barely before he collapses on the small aft deck, almost tumbling down the small steps into the cabin and Will curses, dragging him below, his panted breaths loud in the darkness.   
He drags Hannibal up onto the bed, uncaring of the mess, his hand coming up to press against his eyes for a moment, the world spinning again. He balls the hand into a fist and then hits it against the wall, the pain grounding him for a moment, fumbling for the medicine kit he put next to the bed. He pulls a bandage out, clumsily dressing Hannibals wound before setting up the IV bag, dangling already from the ceiling, prepared on a whim and too many foreshadowing thoughts, taping it to Hannibals arm with numb fingers. He takes the blunt scissors and cuts Hannibals clothes off with them, dropping the tatters next to the bed uncaringly before he covers him carefully.

Will watches Hannibal for a long moment, his mind a white static, the Alpha in him satisfied he managed to ensure his Omegas safety, at least for now, before he pushes himself up, resolution settling in his bones. He injects himself with a shot of antibiotics, foregoing the morphine for now, needing to be clear to take them out, relieved beyond measure when the engine rumbles to life without problems.

He takes the ship out for three hours, huddled in a heatable blanket, his vision tunneled in, focused solely on the instruments, tracking their movements. When he finally anchors the sun raises again, and he tries to smile at it, lopsided and hurting, stumbling down into the cabin, trusting them to be save in the small alcove near Brick he selected for this purpose a felt lifetime ago. He drops down next to Hannibal, still lying prone and very still where he left him and reaches out, fingers pressing into the bite wound. He exhales and is out like a light.

 

___________

 

The soft tugs in his cheek translate to a ravenstags prodding, the fantasy animals breath tickling his nose, moving down to his shoulder after a moment, sharp tugs and small jolts of pain, delivered by antlers prodding at his flesh. He opens his eyes, bleary eyed, vision swimming, the wendigo hovering over him, undressing him, tending to him, a shadow against the sunlight streaming in behind him, dark need pushing at is soul, the words echoing in the static void around them.

„Sleep, mylimasis.“

His eyes close again, secure and safe in the nightmare of his own making, his beast willingly locking its horns with his prey, tangled, playing, always.


	3. Chapter 3

Will wakes to the rumbling of his stomach, opening his crusted eyes with an effort, reaching for the other side of the small bed blindly, only to find it cold and empty, though rumpled and stained, refuting the notion of a dream right away.  
He pushes himself up with a deep groan, hissing when the moving of his lips pull at the stitches in his cheek, face and throat swollen and hot, his tongue swollen and thick in his mouth, headache a flaring throbbing pain. 

The sound of the little toilet flushing floods him with abject relief, glad that Hannibal seems to be able to on his own, his own toilet break earlier a bad dream of stumbling and hurting limbs, a breath he was not aware of holding rushing out of him, raising his weary eyes to Hannibals when he pushes the little door open, stumbling back to the bed. Hannibal locks eyes with him for a mere moment, before he catches himself against the edge of the bed, panting from exhaustion, muscles straining when he lowers himself carefully, shifting his weight to his left hip when he sits down, the new bandage on his wound showing a red smear. He breathes through his nose a few times, harshly, a testament to the strain it takes to master the pain, Will watching silently, trying not to stare at -his- bite mark. Hannibal huffs a breathless laugh after a moment, abject elation coloring it, a dangerous tone shuddering just out of reach.

„I am well aware of the addictive taste of leaving ones mark. I do not object to you enjoying seeing yours on me.“

He closes his eyes for a moment, shoulders straining in effort of holding himself up, shooting a look at Will when he opens them again, red eyes flashing, voice low.

„I do enjoy seeing mine.“

Will frowns and then his hand shoots up to the right side of his throat, surprised when he only feels hot, sore and swollen skin there, no wound. Hannibal chuckles, ending the laugh with a cough again, breath wheezing on the words.

„Ah, no, I would not complete our bond with you unconscious.“

He lowers his eyes to Wills stomach for a moment, and then returns to Wills eyes, ignoring his forehead for which Will is grateful in that moment, the scars not equal to him as well. He swallows, trying to form words, but his tongue refuses to work and so Will shakes only his head after a moment, somehow knowing Hannibal will understand. He reaches over to the medicinal supplies bag and retrieves two more IV bags, frowning when he discovers them to be the last ones. Hannibal answers his unspoken question, some of the old smugness creeping back into his tone.

„You were unconscious for two days. I believe we will need further medical attention. We do not have enough antibiotics to battle the infection in my wound or your cheek.“

Will closes his eyes for a moment in consternation, sighing through his nose.  
He rolls his shoulders, pain flaring up in the right one at the subconscious movement, making him hiss. Hannibal reaches over and touches the dressed wound, softly pressing, sweat breaking out on Wills skin at the intense pain the action provokes but he grits his teeth and stays quiet, enduring. Hannibal hums, a smile tugging at his lips, openly enjoying being able to touch so freely. His hand glides towards Wills throat, softly pressing into the hot skin there, over the scent gland, where the bite would go, a wondrous note in his voice.

„So long I have endeavored for you to release the lion. And your becoming is beautiful beyond compare, fully realized in a vicious claim and a rebirth, the sea bowing to your wishes, against all odds.“

Hannibal pauses, black eclipsing the red of his eyes, voice dropping low.

„If I return the bite, we will be legally bonded, as it was meant to be from the moment I laid eyes on you and your breathtaking darkness.“

Will breathes out harshly through his nose, eyes flitting black and forth between Hannibals, his soul reaching, forcing himself to stay still, to wait, every instinct in him screaming to mate, now, to claim, forcefully if need be. Hannibal chuckles, inhaling deeply, raising his eyebrows for a moment, whispering now.

„Your restraint is admirable, beloved. Your need and your will pours off of you in waves, conflicted and yet consolidated, burning in restraint.“

Hannibal leans closer, almost in reach now, his breath ghosting across Wills shoulder, voice almost inaudible.

„This will hurt. Also…“

There is a pause and a slight chuckle, tone dry.

„There is a syringe with morphine next to you. Please give it to me.“

Will does so with a frown and then shakes his head and closes his eyes, reaching up, pulling Hannibal closer, his hands tangling in his short hair, feeling the sensation of lips drifting across the skin -there-, sending goosebumps everywhere, need rearing up, mixing beautifully with the pain of pressure against his inflamed flesh. Hannibals left hand goes around his back, gripping his left waist, his mouth opening against Wills throat, sucking softly and Will moans, his hips bucking up, once, already hard.

Hannibal chuckles and then he bites down, viciously forcing his teeth deep, the instant the bond completes slamming through them both, their souls entwining, filling the voids in them both, and Will sobs once, hard. Hannibal rears back up after a moment, a breathless triumphant expression on his face, chuckling deeply before he injects himself with the morphine shot, blood dropping from his lips, smiling sharply. 

Will snarls, his vision red and then he pushes Hannibal down onto his stomach in one swift motion, climbing on top of him. He pushes Hannibals knees apart with is own, pushing both their underwear to the side, not bothering with anything beyond need, now, here, -him-. He has enough sense of mind to push two fingers in first, roughly, licking and groaning at the slick covering them when he pulls them out again, his mind clouded in a fog of lust. Hannibals soft mewl reaches him from far away and then Will lays down onto him, covering him as much as possible, and then enters him in one slow unrelenting motion, Hannibals body beyond tight though fully slick, shivering, a tortured sound escaping them both when Will sheathes himself, panting harshly. He reaches up and grips Hannibals hands with his own, pulling his arms together over his head, his legs pushing Hannibals wider apart. Hannibal moans under him and turns his head, the pupil fully blown black when he locks his gaze with Wills.

Will squeezes their hands and bends down, ghosting a kiss to Hannibals temple before pulling back and slamming into him, Hannibal closing his eyes for a moment, an expression of extreme bliss crossing it. Will snarls and does it again, the soft sound stealing itself out of Hannibals throat reaching him as from far away, craved and needed as much as the pleasure, promising to be blinding. He begins to fuck into Hannibal then, chasing after the sounds, increasing in volume slowly, finding the angle to press them out of Hannibal after a few thrusts, the cloth of Hannibals underwear chafing, providing a grounding counterpoint.  
Will feels the increasing tightness, his knot swelling and he bottoms out, holding, Hannibal shivering under him, moaning constantly now, hips rolling in minute movements. The tight heat is blinding pleasure, threatening to take his sanity, promising bliss but Will refuses the final rut, needing to hear and feel Hannibal break in ecstasy, positioning his mouth over the bite mark slowly, teeth scratching the torn flesh, feels how it is the final straw for Hannibal, pushing his hips back and up, Wills knot inflating fully and Hannibal convulses in orgasm with a low shout, the contractions taking Will with him, and he fucks as much as he still can, hears Hannibal sob, limbs shaking, and then it hits, taking his mind, beyond sated on the abstract knowledge of breeding -Hannibal-, the pleasure agonizing painful in intensity.

He comes to himself slowly, still knotted to Hannibal, who appears to be blissfully spaced out beneath him, pliant and sweaty, their hands still locked. Will hums and then licks at the bite mark as much as he can with his wounded tongue, knowing their wounds will heal faster now when dosed in both their saliva, a bonded pair supplementing each other with various endorphins and nutritional components, kickstarting healing. Hannibal moans brokenly underneath him and Will chuckles, shaking his head in abstract wonder, pressing a kiss to Hannibals neck. Hannibal smiles softly and then whispers softly, squeezing Wills fingers for a moment.

„Sleep, beloved. It will be some time until we can separate.“

Will snorts and then thrusts, once, making them both moan. He chuckles and then settles down onto Hannibal, cradled in the possessive obsessive love, pouring over him through their opening bond, his heart hurting with it, seemingly bursting with feeling. The tear falls onto the bite mark, unheeded, the soft rocking of the boat sending them to their dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

Will wakes up from his nap as if from a drug haze, buffeted on elation, his consciousness drifting up, up, towards a sirens call, until he can pinpoint what is pulling him in, his nose pushing into the short hairs in Hannibals neck, groaning, the smell intoxicating. He shifts and pulls out, groaning deeply, his mind more than willing but his body refusing to cooperate, a breathless chuckle rumbling beneath him, echoing the sentiment, unspoken.

He scents along Hannibals body slowly, instinctually cataloguing, his fingers ghosting over Hannibals entrance, trying to discern whether he hurt him, frowning when he sees the blotches of blood on the wound dressing, his own stomach smeared with it. Hannibals voice interrupts his thoughts, sated and tired, exhaustion tinged.

„I am fine, Will. More than that. However…“

He pauses, turning onto his left side slowly, facing Will, shivering when he is done, his eyes closing for a second before he raises them to Wills.

„However, we need to get more medical equipment. And we need to eat.“

Hannibals eyes narrow, a sharp smile stealing over his face.

„It is unfortunate, that we were not able to take a bite out of a dragon.“

Will tries to smile, but it ends up as a grimace, his face largely unresponsive. Hannibal reaches over and squeezes his hand, a rush of dark need pulsing across their bond and Will squeezes once in return, before forcing himself up, swaying softly when he is upright. He holds up his hand for a moment when he can breathe again, sweat running down his body, turning towards the miniature kitchenette, the two steps needed taxing. He pulls the burner phone from one of the drawers, stumbling back to the bed, dropping down next to Hannibal with a groan. He types the text slowly, carefully phrasing, showing it to Hannibal before he enters the number. Hannibal stills his hand before he can press the send button, taking the phone, adding the words ‚Coated in iron and silver‘ to it, making Will frown in silent question, making Hannibal smirk when he presses ‚send‘.

„She will know we are both alright this way. And it will not make much sense to anyone else.“

Will nods and then pushes himself up again, stumbling into the kitchen, retrieving the white toast he put there, offering it silently to Hannibal, cackling breathlessly and almost soundlessly at the expression on Hannibals face, his amusement trickling across their bond, echoed by mock annoyance. Will sobers slowly, his eyes locking with Hannibals, lowering himself slowly down next to Hannibal, sighing quietly. Hannibal watches him for a long moment, their bond thrumming, his whisper loud between them.

„This -is- all I ever wanted, Will.“

He smirks and then reaches for the toast, taking a slice out, pretending to inhale its flavor, humming in appreciation. Will snorts and then wheezes with the pain the action elicits, his eyes closing for a moment, opening again when he feels the touch on his lower lip, softly pressing. He lets his mouth drop open, Hannibal pushing a small flake of toast in with an intense expression on his face, watching breathlessly as Wills lips close around the tips, swallowing the little morsel of bread down painfully. Hannibals mouth drops open a bit and then he does it again, breaking off a little piece, feeding Will bite by bite, watching Wills mouth the whole time, Will watching Hannibals face, open to him now.  
Hannibal stops when the slice is gone, fingers pressing against Wills mouth for a moment, voice almost inaudible.

„We should not eat too much just now. And…“

His fingers travel along the curve of Wills mouth softly, his gaze following.

„I cannot wait to kiss you, mylimasis.“

Will exhales shudderingly, echoing the sentiment silently, his gaze dropping to Hannibals open lips for a moment. He reaches up and traces Hannibals lips in turn, watching his eyes flutter closed. He withdraws his hand and then retrieves another slice of toast, offering it to Hannibal silently, his eyes crinkling. Hannibals eyes flash and Will breaks off a piece, lips twitching when he presses it to Hannibals mouth in turn, electricity running through him when Hannibal closes his lips around the tips down to the first knuckle, drawing wet hot cold heat up when he withdraws, chuckling deeply. Will rolls his eyes and Hannibal chuckles openly at him, taking the next bite almost modestly, grinning fiendishly when Wills slight disappointment shivers across their bond. The next bite is taken with Hannibals mouth swallowing Wills fingers down even more and Will moans, pupils dilating. Hannibal stops Wills hand and presses a kiss to Wills fingertips, sighing softly.

„We should stop here, for now, mylimasis. As much as I would like to, it is unwise to continue our… wedding night with our current injuries.“

Will snarls before he can help himself, the words slamming through him, the implications like a bass thrum settling in his stomach. The smell of Hannibals echoing excitement reaches him before he manages to contain it, their gaze aflame suddenly. Hannibal touches his right canine with his tongue for a moment, his voice gravely.

„Keep that thought, mylimasis.“

Will closes his eyes and then forces the impulse down harshly, pulling the blanket up with jerky movements, cocooning them both. He reaches over and entwines their fingers, watching Hannibal silently until darkness claims him.


	5. Chapter 5

The pinprick of a needle wakes him next, jolting back to awareness, her face drifting into focus sluggishly. Her dark eyes watch him silently, hands deft and swift, administering another shot calmly, inspecting the healing wounds on his back before turning towards Hannibal, apparently unconscious. Will has to clench his hands into fists as not to lash out at her, the impulse to protect his mate instant and almost overwhelming, silently glad that she is a Beta, grimly aware he would not have been able to contain the impulse towards another Alpha.   
Chiyo shoots him a look and then removes the wound dressing, frowning when she sees the inflamed stitches, an annoyed expression crossing her face. She levels him with an accusatory look when she sees the bruises on Hannibals hip and the bite mark in his throat, and Will has to clench his jaw to keep from growling at her. He starts when she speaks, clipped words gentle and yet unyielding, brooking no argument.

„I will maneuver this boat up to Freeport. We will hide it in a small shipyard of an acquaintance there.“

She looks around the small cabin, frowning again.

„I believe I can discern what you tried to achieve by preparing this boat, but it will not suffice. He will require a wheelchair for quite some time.“

She injects Hannibal with various shots, each injection stabbing at Wills self restraint. There is a minute smirk on her face when she is done, her dark eyes taking him in for a long moment, her voice more warmly when she speaks.

„Your self restraint given the situation is admirable, Will Graham. Please rest.“

A small pause and then she nods once, relief coloring her tone.

„I am relieved I was able to correctly predict the hideout he would choose.“

She pushes herself up and leaves the cabin, the boat rumbling to life a short time after, the soft movements dragging Will back to sleep.

 

___________

 

The cessation of movement wakes him next, finally, the boat still and quiet, the outside dark. Will sits up groggily, pushing at his eyes with the heels of his hands, sighing. His cheek is still hot to the touch but not quite as puffy anymore, probably due to the shots that Chiyo gave him. His tongue is another matter, the open wound in it throbbing with each pulse, breathing difficult. Will sighs through his nose and then resigns himself to silence in the foreseeable future, frowning when he looks over at Hannibal. He reaches over and traces his features with hovering fingers, the breathing shallow puffs against his hand. Hannibal is hot to the touch still, unmoving and Will pulls a face, worry stealing itself into his soul. He pushes himself up and then carefully covers Hannibal back up, bending down to nose at his nape for a second, before he quietly pulls some clothes from one of the built in closets, the act of getting dressed exhausting but at least possible now. 

He drags himself to the deck, astonished when he finds the boat jacked up on a trailer in a large hall, amidst other boats. Must have been some drug. He turns and looks around, the hall quiet and dark and then he shrugs and goes down into the small cabin again, the little note on the side table catching his gaze. He picks it up, the words ‚Gone for food‘ self explanatory and then flops down on the sofa with a weary sigh.

His stomach rumbles again, angrily and Will deliberates for a moment, deciding to make some coffee for now, Chiyo probably bringing special food back. He watches the little puffs of steam disperse in the air, the smell rousing him more, the first sip almost a revelation. It hurts in his mouth and it hurts to swallow and yet Will could not be more relieved, standing there in the semi darkness of his own boat, with Hannibal if not well but at least stable, and them both free, still. The ring clinks against the cup on his next sip, and Will frowns, wrenching it off almost angrily, its weight heavy in his hand and on his soul. He puts it into one drawer, carefully, his hand resting on the handle for a long time, silently accepting.

There is a rustling outside and Chiyo appears, descending the few steps swiftly, bags in hand. She nods at him and then indicates one bag, her tone matter of fact.

„I brought pumpkin soup for you both. It is easy to eat.“

She hesitates, her gaze flicking to the main cabins door and back to Will.

„However, I believe he may be unconscious for quite a while longer. Therefore I brought some more IV bags and supplemental fluids.“

Will nods, silently thanking her, tilting his head in a nod towards the cabin as well, asking without words. Chiyo hesitates again, choosing her words carefully, her voice low.

„He will need weeks to recuperate. His liver was most likely nicked by the bullet and the salt water and… your extracurricular activities have further irritated it. There is a swelling in his spine from the impact. I was in time to stop the blood poisoning but it has taken its toll.“

She averts her gaze for a moment and then locks her eyes with Will, unflinching.

„He is your charge now, Will Graham. It would be wise to postpone any further … enticing activities until you are both well enough. I have therefore acquired some suppressants for him, sufficient for the next four weeks.“

Will snarls quietly, the motion pulling at his stitches and then nods jerkily, everything in him hating the notion of tempering with his mate. He reaches out silently and she gives him the small syringe, nodding once.

He turns and shuffles back to Hannibal, closing the door, desperately needing to do this alone, his heart thumping hard in his chest. He pushes himself forward and injects Hannibal before he can think too much about it, knowing it is best, a heat probably fatal at this point. He blinks the tears away when the liquid disappears, dreading the effect already. He rubs at the little drop of blood, licking it off, the need flaring up for a moment, the taste addictive. He close his eyes and then wills it down, running his fingers through Hannibals short hair once, Hannibals breaths easier immediately, though he does not otherwise stir.

Will gets up again and then returns to the living room, the little space almost filled up by Chiyo and himself, the smell making his stomach literally growl. He sits down next to her and she reaches over and offers him a straw, which he accepts after several seconds of hesitation, shaking his head. She squeezes his arm for a moment and then returns to her own meal, silent, sure, reassuring. Will takes a sip of soup and closes his eyes, relaxing in increments, a cautious peace settling in his soul.


	6. Chapter 6

They move to an apartment after three weeks, deeming Hannibal finally safe enough for travel. Will pushes the little wheelchair, glad for the chance to actually move, the weeks limited to the little boat exhausting in their own right. He loads Hannibal into the back of the big black truck Chiyo has acquired for them, smiling softly at Hannibal, who is finally conscious again, after weeks of almost coma-like unconsciousness, losing weight in the process, the whole thing normal as to Chiyo but beyond hard on Wills nerves. Hannibal echoes the smile, eyes never leaving Will for long.

Will had forcibly restrained himself mentally at some point, actively meditating, aware of the danger of their natures, touching skin only if strictly necessary, each brush a jolt of electricity, skin hunger hovering just out of reach.

Christmas is spent quietly in the apartment, with Hannibal finally sitting on his own again, skin ashen but spirit unbroken, watching Will with glittering eyes and a smirk on his mouth. Chiyo leaves them after the holidays, nodding at them both once, leaving a small notebook and instructions how to access their funds, her absence resonating hollowly. 

There is a squeak of the tires on the wooden floor as Hannibal rolls up to him, his hands pushing the wheels slowly, still so very thin. Too thin and Will snarls, angry at himself for adding to the injuries still, the self hatred eating away at him just below the surface. There is a hum across their bond, and Will sighs, turning towards Hannibal with a small self deprecating smile, eyes hooded. 

He clears his throat, his voice still unused and raw, the scar still red on his cheek. Hannibal blinks at him, his eyes way too perceptive once more, fully concentrated on him again now, and Will wishes for a split second for Chiyo to come back, the thought obvious on his face apparently, because Hannibal chuckles gently, his voice soft.

„The choices we make… they shape our lives, whether we wish them to or not.“

Will rolls his eyes, his voice croaking out, loud between them.

„I don’t regret being here, if that is what you mean.“

Hannibal smirks, rolling a bit closer.

„I am aware of that. It rolls off of you and across our bond as soon as you lay eyes on me. Tell me, Will, why the reluctancy to touch me then?“

Will steps closer before he can help himself, inhaling deeply, the urge to get more of that smell thrumming once, hard. He stops himself, his gaze imploring and intense.

„You are not well enough yet.“

He licks his lips, sees how the action triggers Hannibals pupils to dilate rapidly, his voice dropping to a low rumble.

„I will wait until you are.“

Hannibal reaches out to him, fingers gently gripping Wills, the soft touch making Will shiver, Hannibals whisper reaching him as if from far away.

„Not even a kiss?“

Will closes his eyes for a moment, the longing settling deep within him, opening them again when Hannibal squeezes, once. He locks gazes with Hannibal, intense and unflinching, deadly serious.

„Especially no kiss.“

Hannibal huffs a resigned laugh, understanding disappointment shivering between them. Hannibal releases his hand, wheeling himself back a bit before he stops, his expression sly.

„I expect one for New Years though.“

Will snorts, viciously amused suddenly, excitement building in him, some kind of sense picking up on the new game just fine, voice colored by humor.

„Only if you manage to feed me properly. If past behavior is any indicator, I need to build up my strength.“

Hannibal grins, eyes sparkling before he turns away, his voice resonating and clear, the double meaning not hidden in the slightest.

„Ah, mylimasis, I will provide a feast.“

**Author's Note:**

> @vinylmurdersuit - and everybody else reading^^: There will be more, it just.... fit with the story I mentioned in the summary.  
> Therefore I connected it and I hope you liked it!!!
> 
> Kudos and comments feed my muse :))  
> Let me know what you think?


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